


'til death do us part, darling

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they're a match, half-doomed and semi-sweet, fallen angels whose broken hearts can't be mended. chaos walking crossover fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'til death do us part, darling

**Author's Note:**

> woo okay actually pretty proud of this one!! it's something my brain did at school. enjoy <3

It's all the wrong kinds of grief.  
He pushes and pulls and tears at her emotions slowly, snarking and sugar-coating, saccharine-sweet with sour until her eyes tear and her mouth bleeds with sobs and groans. He knows she could hear it, the Noise he's careful with letting out because she would hear his intentions, rusty and horrible, and it all ends in death, the iron taste of it, filling her brain and heart and she'd by all means escape from him and break free because she knows, she knows, she knows. She's a prisoner, trapped by will of his Noise and his words because he's oh-so capable of deceit.

He loves her — maybe. Cares for her in all her innocence and loveliness, green doe eyes and dark hair he's grown with but feels suspicious about because he can't _hear_ her. He wants to know what she thinks; her actions aren't enough to tell him, to assure him that she (maybe) loves him back and that she's alright with him, safe and secure to the point of dependence. (Something she doesn't have; she grew up alone, learning and re-learning everything, intelligent and capable. Yet she's touch-starved, leaning towards anything that spells contact, hugs and skin to skin, fingers brushing. It's something he can willingly give.)

Whatever she thinks, it doesn't matter. It's all sick in the end, anyway.

xx

He presses cold lips to warm skin, and he wants more than anything to believe that he isn't chaos walking, Noisy and invasive, that she's accepting him, she doesn't mind and he isn't a monster who ceaselessly destroys. He finds there's something about the way she holds him, delicate and feather-like. She leaves the lingering feeling of fingers and palms on his skin, on his arms and hands and face and he can't get rid of it. It's like she means to trace a map of his body that only she could see; all the broken roads and burned bridges hidden in his veins reworking themselves to operate properly again. Through the night, they pass sighs through mouths and transfer anger through teeth on lips; there's a certain wrongness to it, something he feels couldn't fix him and the void in his heart.

(He never really knew how to feel.)

She's an angel, and he's getting her drunk and helpless, clipping her wings so she couldn't fly and damning her because he's an angel as well — an angel of hell. He spreads his curse to everyone he meets, destruction following him wherever he goes. Chaos walking — Zero, they call him, nameless and unidentified, because only Jade (his angel, his beautiful and raw angel) knows him; she'll never call him Zero, and she never would get the chance since he'll be taking it away.

In fact, he'll be taking every chance she's got to live. He'll count the seconds to her midnight.

xx

She stands, wary and watching his every move, crowlike. She's supposed to be graceful, holy, pure — but it ends in betrayal and she knows it. She knows what this moment is all about. He should have known, she's all sorts of smart, but he couldn't measure the extent of his powers and how they affect her.

His Noise flares, commanding her with every word and wrap around vowels and consonants and sounds he could make; blood is shed and bones are broken and she cries, screams hurting his eardrums and spearing through his heart and his head pounds, jaw locking and hisses escaping from between his gritted teeth.

(She's the most broken angel he's ever seen, no longer having wings and showing off a crooked halo. They're a match, half-doomed and semi-sweet, fallen angels whose broken hearts can't be mended; chaos walking and another so affected by chaos walking she's one herself. It's all the wrong kinds of grief.)

A snap — only two words are given by him: I'm sorry.

And she breaks and falls and it's sick; he doesn't care (but he does), because she was just a piece in his game.


End file.
